


Tag Team Promises

by Aurelia_Combeferre



Series: A Life Worthwhile [7]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: EnjonineWeek2018, F/M, enjonine - Freeform, prompt 7 marriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-01
Updated: 2018-08-01
Packaged: 2019-06-19 22:17:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15519825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aurelia_Combeferre/pseuds/Aurelia_Combeferre
Summary: In which the duo looks back on pictures of a memorable day.





	Tag Team Promises

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Enjonine week prompt 7: Marriage

**Tag-Team Promises**

The first notifications on the phone come early enough to bring Enjolras out of a very much needed slumber, but not so early that he would silence the offending gadget in favor of chasing a little more shut-eye. This time he peeks at the photos he’s just been tagged in, only to end up shaking his head with disbelief. ‘ _How on earth did we get through yesterday?’_ he wonders as he comes across a picture of himself having to untie some incriminating white balloons from the rear bumper of his car.

He feels the mattress shift as a familiar, sleepy voice murmurs in his ear. “Who’s bugging us now?” Eponine asks, lifting her head from the pillow.

“Grantaire tagged us already in his pictures,” he replies, turning to face her properly. The sight of her sleepy grin, almost always half hidden by a tangle of brown hair, never ever gets old. He leans in to let her capture his lips with a kiss, only to hear her own phone start beeping with its own set of notifications. “Now he’s probably tagged you too.”

“It’s going to be like that till everyone is done uploading,” Eponine points out as she reaches over to check her phone. She frowns as she begins scrolling through the pictures. “I still can’t believe my mom wore white. Of all colors, on all days.”

“At least that is done with,” Enjolras points out as he slips an arm around her bare waist. All the same the evidence had been captured in pixels showing Madame Thenardier looking smug on the arm of her husband as they make their way down the church aisle. ‘ _If not for the veil on Eponine’s head, one would not know who the bride was,’_ he observes silently.    

Eponine rolls her eyes as she points to the image of Azelma in a bright red dress that barely comes down to the middle of her thighs. “I kind of guessed she’d pull off something like this.”

“Was it too much to expect some poise and rationality from her?”

“If you define that as not making an outright scene, then no.”

He smirks as they continue to scroll through picture after picture of their wedding ceremony, and he feels her pull him closer as they get to the photos of their exchange of vows. “You were about to cry,” he says, seeing how her eyes were shining even under her lace veil.

“No, I just got something in my eye,” she drawls, but all the same she snuggles further under his chin. “Not like you were much better either.”

“Involuntary,” he replies blasely. All the same the image of Eponine dressed all in white is something that will stay with him for years to come. “I only get to see you in that gown once.”

She looks up at him mischievously. “I could always model it for you again, when we get home.”

“That, among other things.” He’s pretty sure that it will take some searching for them to locate all the items of clothing they’d strewn around their hotel room from the night before, but that is a matter that can wait for much later in the morning.  “This was completely expected,” he quips, pointing to a picture of Bahorel, Bossuet, and Grantaire dancing atop the open bar, surrounded by most of their other guests.

“So was this,” Eponine says, scrolling to a picture of Cosette catching the bouquet. “I was aiming for either her or Musichetta.”

“How did Azelma take that?”

“I think by that time she snuck off, with one of the waiters.” She sighs as she goes back to a picture of her father standing atop a chair, completely red in the face as he raises a beer bottle for a toast. “I hope that everyone deletes this from the video.”  

The very mention of the elder Thenardier’s inebriated speech is enough to make Enjolras cringe. ‘ _It was not even a case of in vino veritas,’_ he thinks. At any rate he can count on eye rolls and disapproving expressions among his kin the next time his father-in-law’s sense of humor is brought up. “We don’t have to remain in contact with them,” he offers.

“Sparingly,” Eponine concedes. “Miguel, can you promise me something?”

“What is it?”

“We’ll do better if one of our kids gets a turn.”

This mention of the future tense has Enjolras smiling from ear to ear even as he kisses his wife’s hand. “Deal.”


End file.
